In its first reel, The Joneses looks set to deliver a biting satire on competitive consumption. No other purpose seems capable of justifying its zany central conceit. The eponymous Joneses are a fake family of stealth-marketers who succeed in luring their neighbours into acquisitive excess. Over-eagerness to keep up with the Joneses, both literally and proverbially, brings the community to its knees. Surely this ought to provide us with at least an attempt at a witty and incisive homily on greed, envy and one-upmanship. Yet nothing of the kind ensues.

Instead of pursuing the theme embodied in its title, the film tries to find pathos in its disruptive family's problems, rather than humour in the folly of their victims. Since the Joneses' own situation is a synthesised absurdity, the emotional issues it generates aren't too engaging. So, in what seems like desperation, melodrama is conscripted to take over from wilting comedy. It all feels like a chaotic retreat from a mission that's being abandoned. You're left wondering why the film's original promise is not to be fulfilled. Surely a smart and rueful take on status anxiety, rat-racing and the hedonic treadmill should be just the thing for our chastened times.

When asked to explain the course he took, The Joneses' director, Derrick Borte, isn't too enlightening. He thinks his film does indeed indict consumerism; but then it sort of celebrates it as well. He likes the idea that no clear meaning emerges. Much more fun, he suggests, if we all make of his work what we will. He doesn't tell us what we should do if we can't make anything of it.

He does, however, say something that should perhaps earn him some sympathy. He tells us he didn't want to be "preachy". Why ever not, you might wonder. If you can't condemn something as obviously foolish, selfish and in every way destructive as keeping up with the Joneses, what can you condemn? Yet justification for his anxiety can in fact be found. A case can be made for competitive consumerism.

Earlier this year, a study of life satisfaction found that happiness doesn't vary with living standards; it does however depend heavily on the achievement of social status. Struggling to keep up with the people next door may therefore make perfect sense. Certainly, most of us seem to think so. Even in these straitened times, hundreds queued outside the stores selling the first iPads, and they can't all have been early-adopting geeks. People who'd consider it vulgar to flaunt their possessions boast instead of their children's triumphs. Celebrities try to outdo each other in competitive compassion.

Even those among us keenest to condemn material profligacy can't consider ourselves immune. Another recent study demonstrated that "green" consumer choices aren't driven solely by concern for the environment. People sacrifice money, luxury and performance to demonstrate superior social values and thereby enhance their status.

Despite efforts to suppress it, competition seems to remain an intrinsic human urge, and winning continues to bring a glow of satisfaction. Trying to keep up with the Joneses appears to bring us cheer, and it keeps us out of worse kinds of competitive mischief in which humanity has so often indulged. It's a game in which the poorest can participate, and it's been played for a long time: the comic strip called Keeping Up With the Joneses made its first bow in 1913.

Neighbourly contention may therefore be a tougher target for satire than it appears at first sight. Still, it shouldn't be beyond the big screen's reach. If Derrick Borte's chickened out of the challenge, perhaps we shouldn't be too worried. In this as in so many other fields, peer competition will doubtless deliver rivals who're determined to outdo him.